


two slow dancers

by 00yearning00



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Falling Apart, Nostalgia, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29503038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00yearning00/pseuds/00yearning00
Summary: Dutch and Hosea share a dance after Sean's party.
Relationships: Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	two slow dancers

**Author's Note:**

> title is taken from two slow dancers by Mitski, which I listened to on repeat as I wrote this.

Horseshoe Overlook had grown quiet and still in the early morning hours. Sean’s party had died down hours ago, everyone asleep on the ground, barely in their tents, too drunk to even care. Hosea had laid down before them all, tired and too old to keep drinking. The conversation he had had with Dutch earlier had been keeping him awake, though. They had made it this far, but how far could they really make it? How long until everything caught up to them? Hosea could feel it coming, and he knew Dutch could as well, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Melancholia was a familiar feeling these days to him. Oh, how he longed to be young again. He longed for Dutch to look at him the way he used to. Like Hosea had hung the world, without anger or frustration as he did now. They had fought on and off since Dutch decided against buying land in the west. They weren’t the well-oiled machine they used to be. With age came fatigue for Hosea, and he couldn’t keep running and robbing forever. But for Dutch, age brought immortality in his eyes. He thought no one could touch him nor his gang, that they would always get out of trouble. Hosea knew that this wouldn’t end well, Dutch had always been a little prideful, but now he was nearing a dangerous mindset. It worried him. 

He tried to roll over and close his eyes, but with Bill snoring and his own damned thoughts, he couldn’t. He could only think of one thing Dutch had said-

_Whatever else happens, we did it._

_I know._

-

Dutch sat on the pallet floor of his tent, head in his hands, tears in his eyes, and hurt in his heart. He was crumbling. Thoughts of betrayal and fears crept into his brain like a cancer. Molly slept soundly in the cot. Looking at her made him feel ill. He put his head back in his hands and fought a sob hiding in his throat. He thought of the way Arthur had been acting around him lately, questioning him and suggesting different options. He thought of the way the rest of camp had acted around him in Colter, on edge and wary, scared of what he would say next. Scared that he would send them to their deaths, too. They were losing faith in him. He had barely even drank, and yet these vile insecurities were popping up like flies. It hadn’t helped that he had spoken to Hosea, either. It’s not like they weren’t on speaking terms, but they never really talked. Though tonight they had reminisced. They had held hands. He remembers getting overwhelmed and leaving Hosea alone, which was quite the opposite of what he really wanted. He wanted to hug him, or rather, be hugged by him. He craved his lover’s embrace, it had been months since they had touched like that. Dutch was too stubborn to initiate it, though. But he also wanted so badly to be mad at him, to yell at him until he truly understood what Dutch wanted from moving this far east. But he couldn’t. A small part of him, a part that was growing smaller and smaller by the day, knew Hosea was right about how they should have settled west. He would never admit it, he could barely admit it to himself even, but it was true. When Dutch woke up the next morning he would make sure he didn’t believe it was. 

He tried to ground himself by focusing on the gramophone, playing some symphony he would’ve been able to name if he wasn’t breaking down. It reminded him of being young of, Arthur asleep in his own tent, snoring away while Dutch and Hosea danced to the gramophone after robbing a plantation owner, basking in the glory while Arthur and John had passed out drunk. It had been revolutionary, Dutch and Hosea both had a love for music and they could now bring it to their camp, creating a new type of intimacy. Dances and reading together could be done with music. They had stolen it from a mansion near Montana, some Canadian immigrant who only spoke french believed Hosea when he told him they were movers. Dutch remembered Arthur laughing his ass off trying to put it into the wagon as the Canadian watched them with the most confused look on his face. Everything was different now, though. Dutch feared he would never have another dance with Hosea, and there would be no one to blame but himself. 

Dutch let a sob escape him against his own wishes. He looked up to Molly to make sure she was still asleep before smacking himself in the face to make the tears stop. He lost count of how many times he did it. 

Molly still didn’t wake up. 

-

Hosea thought he could hear noise coming from Dutch’s tent, even over the gramophone. Violent smacks and groans over and over again. On some nights he wouldn’t think twice, Dutch was not gentle to women in the bedroom and Molly was known to brag about how rough she liked it to the girls, but Hosea couldn’t hear Molly, only Dutch. He sat up to see if he could see a shadow from within the tent but it was pitch black inside. Hosea was torn between getting up to see what was going on, or just going back to sleep. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with an outburst from Dutch right now. 

But he couldn’t let himself lie back down, he wouldn’t sleep, anyway, knowing something was up. He pushed himself off of the ground, making sure not to disturb Lenny, who was sprawled in front of the tent. Making his way over he noticed the smacking had stopped, now it was eerily silent save the gramophone. 

Hosea stood outside of the tent, arms crossed, head tilted to the sky. 

“Dutch? You awake?” There wasn’t an answer. 

“I heard you, now come out and soothe my nerves or I’ll come in myself,” Hosea sighed and shook his head. Was this worth the trouble? He feared there was no resolving their conflict. He wasn’t one to give up, and he knew Dutch wasn’t a lost cause just yet, but after the last few months they had just had, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to do this anymore. 

He watched the tent flap open and Dutch slowly walked out, looking towards the ground and coming to stand next to him. 

“What was all that noise, Dutch?”

“Ain’t nothing, Hosea. I was just thinking. You don’t need to worry yourself about it.” 

Dutch hadn’t looked at him once, yet as Hosea gazed down at him, only wearing his union suit with his pants, suspenders at his sides, feet soaking into the grass, he could tell it had been a bad night. Hosea waited for Dutch to get over his ire, deciding to focus on the gramophone, which played Pathetique allegro con grazia by Tchaikovsky, a song which Dutch had brought to him in 1894. He had immediately taken up his arms in dance. They had swung around together until the evening grew into the morning, and John had yelled at them to turn the damn song off. Hosea felt memories like those were more of a curse than a blessing. They always had the worst timing. 

Hosea wanted to dance now, just for nostalgia’s sake. 

He placed his hand on Dutch’s shoulder and took the man’s right in his left. Dutch looked up at him, eyes tired and worn out, but hard set like he was trying to put on an act. Hosea was determined to keep going. He started to sway with him, slowly but surely. It was like moving a mountain. 

“Hosea...why’re you...I haven’t been too nice on you recently an-”

Hosea shushed him. He didn’t want to hear an apology that will be made to him again in a few more months. Recently, he didn’t even get an apology, just a defense of his actions. Hosea just wanted a piece of what they used to have. 

They were stiff at first, like a new couple on their first date. But as the song rose they grew closer together, breathing each other’s air, feeling each other’s body heat, basking in the memories. 

At the precipice of the symphony, they were forehead to forehead, Dutch clinging to Hosea, Hosea gripping Dutch’s hand as hard as he could without it being painful. 

To an outsider, they may have looked odd. Two old men clinging to each other as if the world was crumbling around them. For them, it was. Hosea rocked Dutch back and forth, they were barely dancing now. Dutch had his head resting against Hosea’s collarbone, eyes forced shut. His arm around Hosea’s waist was clutching at his torso, gripping onto his shirt as if Hosea was about to disappear. Hosea was resting his cheek against Dutch’s head. His eyes were open and glossy, lost in memories of the life they used to live. 

Of the love they used to share. 

Hosea could admit that he would always love Dutch. They were partners, lovers, soulmates. But as he looked to the sky, he found himself wanting to cry. The dance felt like a swan song of sorts.

As the symphony carried on, he remembered all of the other times they had danced to the song. The laughter and the life it carried. Now, all life had drained out of the music. It had withered into the two slow dancers the moon looked on now. 

-

Dutch didn’t know what to think. As they swayed under the moonlight, Dutch couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He felt as if Hosea was going to leave him the moment the song ended, or if Dutch removed his hand for just a moment. 

He didn’t want this to end. 

He pushed his head further onto Hosea’s chest, feeling the older man look down to check on him. Dutch took his hand out of Hosea’s grasp to wrap it around Hosea fully. Hosea moved to do the same. 

They swayed, locked in this embrace for eternity it felt like. Neither spoke, and neither moved to leave.

Dutch could hear the song winding down. He opened his eyes for the first time since the dance started. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. 

His body shook with a sob that surprised both of them. The world was crushing him. He had lost so much time arguing with Hosea. He had missed his embrace like the tide missed the beach. Eventually, though, they always had a way of returning to one another. 

Hosea held him harder and tighter, a hand coming up to card through his hair. Dutch cried hard and ugly, grasping at Hosea’s shoulders and mumbling nonsense he couldn’t even decipher. 

Dutch knew Hosea didn’t have much time left, and it horrified him. He wasn’t sure if he could go on without Hosea there to keep him sane. Why did the world have to take everything he held dear?

The symphony was ending, the last few notes played and they still stood there, frozen in time. Hosea’s hand still carded through Dutch’s hair, letting him get everything out. Dutch’s tears had gone from violent to silent, coming down in hot streaks to soak into Hosea’s shirt. 

Dutch knew they would have to separate soon.

He wished this moment could last forever.

-

Hosea lifted his head to gaze at Dutch, who still hadn’t let his grasp lighten on his shirt. He was an entirely different man right now. He was vulnerable. One wrong move would have him spiraling into madness, Hosea knew. 

So he waited, gazing at his once lover whose tears had soaked through to his skin. The world was silent, Pathetique had ended minutes ago. They would soon have to detach themselves and go back to the way they had been before their dance. 

The realization that that may be their last embrace pulled at him. Dutch was becoming more and more reclusive. He wondered if they would ever touch again. He felt a tear run down his cheek, falling down onto their chests. 

Dutch looked to him then. Hosea felt the air leave his lungs when he saw Dutch’s eyes, puffy and full of fear, look to him. 

“Oh, ‘sea..” Dutch’s voice was barely above a whisper. His hand came up to Hosea’s cheekbone to wipe away the tears that slowly leaked from his eyes. Hosea leaned into his touch, closing his eyes, wishing everything was different. 

Dutch’s hand came to rest at Hosea’s jaw. They just stared at one another for a while, their looks sharing more words than they ever could. 

At last, Hosea pulled Dutch into one final embrace. He tucked his head into Dutch’s neck and whispered, “Sleep well, my love,” before withdrawing and placing a kiss on Dutch’s forehead. 

Dutch grabbed onto Hosea’s hand and looked at him with pleading eyes, 

“Hosea. Please…”

Hosea shook his head, more tears fell to the dirt. Dutch dropped his hand.

Hosea did not glance back as he walked back to his pallet on the floor. His heart was laden with a feeling of complete and utter melancholy. He was sure Dutch meant a million things by that last look, and he knew he would spend the rest of the night figuring them out. 

The tears hadn’t stopped either, but as he laid down and closed his eyes, they slowed. 

Hosea feared he had lost Dutch forever. 

-

Dutch woke the next morning on the floor of his tent, Molly questioning him until he finally woke up. She had walked out when he cursed at her and spat at the floor, and Dutch couldn’t complain. 

He left the tent, making boastful and loud good mornings to everyone and welcoming Sean back again. 

He didn’t think about what happened between him and Hosea. If he were to he knew it would pull him deeper into regret, and that was something he couldn’t have. He was moving on and up, finding everyone a new life, he just needed to plan. He couldn’t dote on the past any longer. He could only look forward. 

But when Hosea caught his eye as he was getting his coffee, Dutch felt a small piece of him crumble. He just walked back towards Arthur. They needed Micah back. Micah would keep him on the main goal. 

He just couldn’t shake the feeling of loneliness that he had felt the moment Hosea had walked away. Everything was falling apart.

**Author's Note:**

> i saw someone on twitter talk about this a while ago and its been stuck in my head ever since. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed <3


End file.
